


Dream With Me Dreamer

by chewysugar



Series: Insomnia Chronicles [2]
Category: Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Anxiety, Dreams, Dreamsharing, Grinding, Insomnia, Lucid Dreaming, M/M, POV First Person, Sleeping Together, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 01:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13353897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewysugar/pseuds/chewysugar
Summary: Billy's always terrified that he'll lose Teddy if he closes his eyes. A new power sees to it that he never has to fear again.





	Dream With Me Dreamer

Love like this once in my life is enough for me. Even if there’s been hurdles and difficulties—even if I sometimes feel so pathetic for not having known just what my big green teddy bear was at first—he’s all I want. And it’s like the others said: what does it matter that he was something I created? He’s real enough for himself and everyone else. I needed him, and he came to me.

Sometimes, though, I get worried that he’ll slip away. He’s a construct of my dreams, essentially, and this world hasn’t exactly been forthcoming in being kind to people. Least of all people like Teddy and I. Why wouldn’t something come and take him away in his sleep?

I still catch myself staying up well after he’s fallen asleep with his arms around me. I’ll stare at the ceiling and think to myself: _this is the last time. He’s going to go away now because I’m so happy, and nothing can let me just be happy._ It makes me cry. It tears my guts into bloody bits and tears my heart out of my chest. _  
_

Teddy knows that I lose sleep over this stupid fear. It’s a damn good thing his bullshit tolerance is getting remarkably low the older we both get. Teddy loves me so much that he almost hates it that he can’t keep me all to himself. But he’s not so besotted that he doesn’t call me out on the dumb stuff.

“You looking to join the young adult insomniacs club, baby?” He sees the shadows under my eyes; he’s bears the brunt of my sleep-deprived irritability. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

I’d believe him if he told me that the moon was made of nothing but Key Lime Pie Yoplait yogurt. Whenever he talks like that, with his eyes so damn full of need and love and compassion, it just makes it easier for me to worry. He’s too good, and he’s going to slip away.

The others get tired of it too. But they’ve got their own way of showing it. Cassie usually parrots whatever Teddy says--that nothing is going to happen. Kate is blunt like a knee to the nutsack--get your shit together, Kaplan. And Tommy? He's like if Tarantino took over Dear Abby for a day.

“Come on, dude. You both might be giving the universe serious Tara and Willow vibes, but reality isn’t controlled by Joss Whedon. You’ll be fine. And if you’re not, we’ll just hand the ass of whatever messes with you to it on some Chinet. The durable shit, not that paper crap."

I’ve never mentioned how happy I am to have a brother. Genuinely. Tommy isn’t one of those massive dick brothers, either. He’s just as pleased as I am that we’re in each others lives, but neither of us go around and Supernatural fan fic it up about that fact.

That terror remains, despite why my chosen family might tell me. So I fight harder; I hone my powers. It’ll help in the event that something does sneak up on us aside from ourselves. But the funny thing about mutations, or whatever it is in the name of Thanos that I have, is that they’re constantly in flux. One second you’ll walk around thinking that all you can do is read minds and then boom: you can coat your skin in diamond like that Jenna Jameson looking chick from the X-Men.

Maybe I’ve pushed my mind too far. Maybe my mind develops it as a way to provide shelter for the both of us. It’s not really up to me to figure it out. All I know is that it happens, and I’m not aware of it at first.

The only thing I’m really aware of is that we start dreaming about each other. Vividly. Not the disjointed dreams that most people actually experience; but solid things with settings and sounds and smells and textures. 

The first dream is just him laying on his back and looking at a clear blue sky. I walk across a field of fireweed, purple as amethyst, to him. Teddy looks at me and then frowns a little. I wake up within inches of him, and brush it off as just a dream.

It happens every night after that. Every time we fall asleep in each other’s arms—whether it’s from exhaustion as a result of training or satiation from some seriously awesome sex, he’s there in my dreams. Time is fluid in dreamspace, but in these dreams it becomes a thing outside of any force. When I touch his hand the first time, I know that I’m doing this somehow—making this place for us to be safe and with each other when we’re not awake.

I can do things to the dream world. Want to have a dream that’s a sunset beach in Hawaii with albino blue whales gently singing an Erykah Badu track in whale-song to each other? Coming right up, and would you like fries with that, too?

Or maybe something a bit more ridiculous. Teddy has a sweet tooth, so of course I have to create a dreamspace where we’re running through a land made of sugary confections that would put a Katy Perry music video to shame. We bounce along marshmallows the size of Hummers and climb vines of licorice. Teddy’s laugh makes the whole garish, Technicolor place bearable to someone like me who gets headaches at anything too pink.

I even start adding in some pop culture dreams. We fly over the surface of Hoth as the Empire bears down on Han, Leia and Luke. We do the lift in front of the entirety of the crowd at Kellerman's mountain retreat and have the time of our lives doing so. And because Teddy is such a nut for it, I plop us into a Tim Burton film where everything is smoke and shadow sand cartoon costumes complete with Helena Bonham Carter. 

Still other dreams are more intimate. Sometimes we’re nowhere at all with nothing to do but taste and touch each other. More than once I’ve woken up to find my boxers a sticky mess, and him grinding his not-so-little Little Teddy against my ass.

Even as the world outside grows more frenetic, we have our dreams—have this place and time outside of time for the amazingness of us.

Maybe the universe doesn’t hate the people who live in it as much as a I thought. Then again, how could it when it gave me Teddy in the first place?

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


End file.
